


Fright Night

by star_slayer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Blood, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Ghosts, Ghouls, Humor, Injury, M/M, Magic, Mental Illness (mentioned), Monster Hunters, Monsters, Motorcycles, Plot Acrobatics, Vampires, Violence, Zombies, enchanters, everyone is 18 or older, like there's a training montage, more tags to come as the work develops, myth, non-binary Pidge, undead characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_slayer/pseuds/star_slayer
Summary: The small town of Kerberos has always been strange--an abundance of black cats, strange lights in the woods, an unofficial "ghost tour," and more twin births than the national average for starters--but it hasn't been dangerous. That is until three men go missing.A year after the disappearances, Pidge won't let the case go cold. Not when their father and brother were two of the three men to vanish. Even if that means the only people to believe in them are their friends, Lance and Hunk, and Keith, resident "bad influence" and drop out. Pidge has their theories, but when the group follow a pair of so-called investigators into the woods, all are pulled into a world of magic and disaster, a world that completely changes who they thought they were.To what lengths will they go to save their town and each other?





	1. Phantoms

Shiro’s radar registered something like a dozen Galra heading their way. Unfortunately, the scientists weren’t panicking as much as they should.

“Come on, we need to get out of here!” Shiro grabbed Samuel Holt’s arm and tried to force the researcher away from the computer. Although Samuel couldn’t deny Shiro’s superior strength, he struggled all the same.

“Shiro, we’re so close,” he begged. “It’s just a few more minutes until we find out how to—”

“There’s no time!” Shiro let go of Samuel’s arm and turned to Matthew Holt. “Please, we have to go. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

The younger researcher winced and looked between his father and Shiro, clearly caught in indecision. “Shiro, it’s just a few more minutes…”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “No, Matt! We have to go now!”

“We’re so close,” murmured Samuel as his eyes scanned the screen, Matt looking over his shoulder.

Shiro backed away from them and glanced at the door. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. It was too late.

“Then at least hide,” he pleaded, eyes scanning for a place to put the Holts. In this home turned laboratory, there were only so many places to hide. His gaze landed on the closet door packed with coats; it would have to do. Perhaps the heavy smell of moth balls would disguise them from the Galra.

Shiro returned to the Holts’ side and grabbed both their arms, pulling without restraint this time. Samuel stumbled out of his chair, and Matt yelped at the strength of Shiro’s grip. They all went silent at the sound of the front door creaking open.

“Sorry,” he whispered, shoving them toward the closet. When they were both huddled in, barely fitting in the space, he began to close the door.

Matt’s hand lashed out to stop the door. “Wait, what about you?”

“It’s my fault you’re in this mess,” he said quietly. “I’ll answer for what I’ve done.”

“No—” Matt protested, but Shiro shut the closet door and faced the entrance to the hallway, where eyes as red as blood peered at him. The figure was sheltered from the fluorescent light of the Holts’ makeshift lab. As he stepped into the light, followed by two other Galra, Shiro froze.

“Good work, young one,” purred the Galra, fangs displayed in a grin. Sendak. “I knew I could count on you.”

**\- One Year Later -**

 

Pidge opened their front door and sighed when they first saw the man and woman standing on the other side, badges presented.

“Let me guess,” they said flatly. “You have some questions for me about my dad and my brother.”

They blinked at the young adult who answered the door. “Well… yes,” said the woman. “If you don’t mind.”

She tucked her badge into her suit jacket—Pidge thought it was FBI or something along those lines; their eyes had glazed over the picture of the woman and her credentials—and the man did the same. As Pidge stepped back and gestured for the investigators to come in, they scratched at the rat’s nest that was their hair and tugged their hoodie down. At this point, they were beyond caring about… well, much of anything really, but definitely not what a couple of FBI agents thought of them.

They weren’t rude, though. “Do you want anything to drink? I just made some coffee.”

The man perked up. “I’d love some, thanks.”

Pidge glanced at the woman, whose eyes were wandering the scattered mess that had become the Holts’ home. She realized she’d been caught staring and blushed. “None for me, thank you,” she said quietly.

Pidge shrugged and lead the pair into the dining room. They shuffled old newspapers and opened mail aside on the dining table, and the man and woman sat across from each other, their arms resting in the cleared space. As Pidge trudged into the kitchen and poured the man a cup of coffee, they thought they heard the two of them muttering to each other.

“Creamer?” Pidge called over their shoulder, and the talking stopped.

“Yes, please,” came the man’s reply.

Doctoring the coffee to be generally pleasant to most people’s tastes, they grabbed their own mug off the counter on their way back to the dining room and set the man’s cup in front of him. He thanked them again and took a sip.

Pidge slid into the chair at the head of the table, in front of them, not intimidated in the slightest by the presence of the agents. In the past year since her father and brother disappeared, along with another man from Kerberos, they had seen their fair share of police and social workers and the like, each more unhelpful than the last.

“So how can I help you this fine summer morning?” Pidge said—to their credit, without noticeable sarcasm.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. Pidge took a moment to study her and her companion. The woman was young, perhaps just a few years older than Pidge, with baby blue eyes and white hair. Pidge wondered how much bleach she had to use to get it that white, or if it was just really, really blond. They didn’t care enough to look closer. The man, though clearly older, did not have a streak of gray in his red hair, and his nose hooked in a way that reminded them distantly of their father. Both had markings on their face, Pidge realized, the woman’s pink and the man’s a light blue. Like tattoos. Strange for federal employees.

They caught the tail end of the woman’s first question and answered, “They’ve been gone about a year now. Before you continue, do you mind telling me your names again? I think I missed them.”

Pidge knew they hadn’t given their names, but they wanted to give the agents a chance to introduce themselves. The woman rushed to say, “Oh, I’m so sorry. How rude of us. My name is Allura, and—”

“I’m Coran,” the man supplied helpfully.

Pidge drank their coffee, unconcerned. “You can call me Pidge.”

That was it, no ‘nice to meet you,’ no giving their real name to the agents. Allura’s eyebrows twitched upwards, noticing this, but she continued as though Pidge was as good a name as any. “Okay, Pidge. Before your father and brother went missing, did you notice any strange visitors or unusual occurrences?”

Pidge gulped their mouthful of coffee before they could choke on it. “Excuse me?”

“We’re just trying to cover all the bases,” Coran said quickly.

Pidge glanced between Allura and Coran, brows furrowing. “I don’t really know what you mean by strange visitors and occurrences.”

Allura said, “It could be anything from seeing black cats and shadows, to a stranger asking to borrow your phone because their car broke down…”

Though Pidge had sat through several question-and-answer sessions like this with authorities, this line of questioning caught them off-guard. But now that the woman mentioned it, a memory came floating to the front of Pidge’s mind. The agents waited patiently as they struggled to place the memory.

“There was… a man and his wife,” Pidge recalled uncertainly. “They thought their son had flown his kite into one of the trees in our backyard, and they wanted to come check for it. I’d never seen them before, or since.” Which was a big deal, considering how everyone in Kerberos knew each other, but at the time, the Holts had assumed it was a tourist family passing through.

Coran nodded, as though he was expecting this answer. “And when did this happen?”

Pidge racked their brain for the exact time and came to another realization. “A couple weeks before the disappearance. Wait, what does this have to do with—”

“Did they find it?” said Allura.

“What?”

“The kite,” she elaborated. “Did they find it in the tree?”

“…No,” Pidge muttered.

Allura and Coran shared a look. “What did they look like?” Coran asked.

“I don’t remember,” said Pidge. “Listen, I really don’t understand what this has to do with my brother or my dad.”

“Like Coran said, we like to cover all the bases,” said the woman easily, but Pidge couldn’t help feeling that there was something significant about this being their first question, a weird one at that.

Pidge opened their mouth to press the issue, but the words died in their throat as their mother’s voice lofted into the dining room.

“Katie?” She was barely audible over the whir of the ceiling fan, but they had gotten used to picking out the faint cry. “Do you have visitors over?”

“No, Mom,” Pidge shouted back. They sighed and turned to the agents, who frowned in confusion. “It’s best if you leave now before my mom knows you’re here.”

“Oh.” Allura’s frown deepened. “I was hoping to also speak with her, if that’s possible.”

“It’s not,” said Pidge bluntly. “She barely even talks to me.”

Both agents looked distinctly uncomfortable then, and Pidge almost felt bad for mentioning their family problems to them. At least Allura and Coran didn’t try to offer their condolences or cheer them up, something the other investigators liked to do to ease their own consciences.

Pidge stood. “I’ll see you out.”

\--

After checking on their mother and being sure that she was comfortable and back to sleep, Pidge went to the window and peered out. They hadn’t heard a car engine, and they were right to suspect that the agents were still in front of their house. The two seemed to be in deep conversation in the car. Pidge watched until they heard the car start and saw them pull away, back onto the main road.

They backed away from the window, thoughts turning over in their mind. They decided the first thing they should do is call Keith. He would want to know.

\--

Lance’s hands shake as his eyes skim the letter from Mist University.

_Mist University Board of Admissions to Mr. Lance McClain:_

_We regret to inform you that your application has been denied…_

His heart sank like a stone and his eyes began to blur the further he read, until he had to throw the letter down on his desk and cover his mouth with both hands to stifle his whimper. Though he was alone in his room, one could never be sure who in the crowded McClain house was listening.

Lance’s head spun and his stomach turned as the thoughts flew around his head, a storm of self-hatred and misery. One thought in particular stung him again and again: His safety school had rejected him. A McClain wasn’t going to university.

A knock on his bedroom door made Lance jump at his desk and bang his knees into the underside.

“Lance?” his mother called. “Pidge is on the phone for you.” The door handle jiggled. “ _Mijo_ , why is the door locked?” 

Lance swallowed hard and blinked rapidly to chase away the tears. “Coming,” he said, thankful that his voice at least sounded normal. Before he opened the door, however, he grabbed the letter, stuffed it back in its envelope, and shoved it deep underneath the pile of schoolwork on his desk.

He opened the door and accepted the phone from his mom. She cast a cursory glance into his room before continuing down the hallway. Lance left his door open and slouched on his bed. He didn’t really want to talk to Pidge, but he knew better than to deny them. “What’s up?” he said into the phone receiver.

“I would’ve texted you but, y’know,” said Pidge. They were referring to the fact that Lance had had his phone confiscated for his poor grades his senior year. The reminder of why he was in the position of telling his parents about Mist University made Lance stop breathing.

Pidge didn’t notice his silence or chose to ignore it, because they continued, “I’m calling a meeting at my house. Some FBI agents showed up to my door this morning.”

Lance tore his thoughts away from MU and processed what Pidge was telling him. “Were they asking about your dad and Matt?” he guessed.

“Bingo,” they said. “But they weren’t like other agents. I think they know something. And I was looking through the security tapes—”

“Again?” Lance said.

Pidge ignored that. “And I found something interesting.”

Lance sighed. “Interesting” to Pidge could mean anything from a drop in temperature to a stray black cat, but he wanted to support his friend, especially with the anniversary of their family’s disappearance just a couple weeks ago. “Alright, I’ll call Hunk to pick me up.”

Pidge spoke slowly, as though choosing their words with care. “Will your parents… let you come over?”

“School’s out,” Lance reminded them. “I might not have a phone anymore, but it’s not like my grades will get any lower.”

“Right. Okay. See you then.”

“See you.” Lance hung up and ran a hand through his hair. He frowned at the pile of papers hiding the Mist University letter. He knew he should tell his parents… but that could wait. After all, he needed to think of some way to spin it as a positive. That’s what he’d done when he didn’t get into his parents’ school of choice, Garrison Tech, by reminding them there was still Mist U. He needed time to come up with another Mist U.

Leaving his room and the letter behind, Lance dialed Hunk’s phone from memory and went to tell his parents he was playing video games at the Holts’ house.

\--

“More studying?” said Hunk’s mother Dulce, frowning.

Hunk nodded and adjusted his laptop bag at his side. “I need to stay sharp if I’m going to compete with the other students at Garrison Tech.”

“But it’s summer,” Dulce said. “You should be having fun and being, you know, eighteen.”

Hunk’s other mom, Marleen, laughed as she passed through the kitchen to the viewing room. “He’s been studying since he was born, Dee. Most parents would be happy their son wanted to study all the time instead of playing mindless video games or screwing around.”

Dulce rolled her eyes at her wife. “Fine, okay. I see your point. Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” she said, cupping Hunk’s cheek. “Remember, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”

Hunk shuddered. “You know I hate that movie.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Dulce kissed her son’s forehead and ruffled his hair. “Before you go, would you mind grabbing some extra candles from the basement? We’re expecting a group of five today.”

“Sure, Mom,” Hunk agreed. She smiled at him and went to join Marleen in the viewing room.

Inwardly, Hunk was groaning. He hated the basement, especially since his house was supposedly haunted. Well, according to the Garretts’, most houses in Kerberos were haunted in some fashion because the town was on a ley line, one of many magical currents of power that criss-crossed the world.

As he flicked the light on for the basement and dragged his hand down the guard rail, he had to duck to dodge some of his mothers’ crystals and pendants hanging from the ceiling. When he reached the bottom, he made a beeline for the shelf holding candles of every shape, size, and color. He knew to grab the white ones because they were best for protection against malevolent entities.

The overhead lamp flickered, and Hunk felt a cold breath across the back of his neck. He spun around, arms full of candles, but he was alone.

“Nope, nuh-uh, not real,” he said aloud as he hurried back up the stairs and closed the basement door behind him. He took several deep breaths before continuing into the viewing room.

Hunk had a normal house, except for the viewing room. Pillows were arranged in a circle around a black bowl filled with water. His mothers each sat on a pillow and looked up as he approached. Incense burned in holders beside the scrying bowl; Hunk was well used to the smell of incense by now. On the wall were photos and newspaper clippings about Kerberos and some of the “spooky” things to happen in the town. One article declared, “TWIN BIRTHS HIGHER THAN NATIONAL AVERAGE IN KERBEROS.” Another one, “KERBEROS MAN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING TWICE IN ONE DAY LIVES TO TELL THE TALE.”

Hunk’s least favorite showed an illustration of a class of children and the headline, “CHILDREN SUCCUMB TO WASTING DISEASE.” It was from the 1800s, so nowhere near recent, but it still gave Hunk chills to look at. Thankfully, he’d talked his mothers out of hanging up anything about the three men to go missing last year, out of respect for Pidge and the community, but that didn’t mean Dulce and Marleen didn’t clip the stories out of the newspaper and keep them, anyway.

In the window hung a sign, “The Garrett Psychics,” but most people in town called Hunk’s family business the Garrett Ghost Tour. That’s because Hunk’s mothers were psychics, and successful ones at that. The home was a revolving door for paying tourists who could communicate with loved ones via a séance performed by Dulce and Marleen.

They had tried to train Hunk in the practice, but though he retained much of the knowledge they passed down to him, he didn’t believe in ghosts or psychics. More specifically, he didn’t want to believe.

“Thank you, Hunk,” said Marleen, accepting the candles from Hunk and placing them around the circle.

Dulce sighed, sitting cross-legged on her pillow. “I don’t know why you insist on that nickname when your real name is so beautiful.”

Hunk cracked a smile. “But everyone calls me Hunk.”

“That’s right,” agreed Marleen.

“Don’t encourage him,” Dulce said, but a smile tugged at her red-painted lips.

Marleen grinned and adjusted her bandana to better contain her frizzy brown hair. “And Hunk, just give us a call if you need anything. We’ll be conducting a séance, but we’ll know it’s you and call you back.”

The Garretts’ phone had caller ID, but without looking, they could always tell who was calling. Hunk boiled it down to lucky guessing and intuition. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“And give Katie’s mother a hello from us,” Dulce added.

Hunk sort-of smiled, because his mother meant well, but Mrs. Holt never knew Pidge had company if Pidge could help it. “Will do,” he said anyway, and left before the tourists could come and gawk at him like he was a circus freak.

Hunk tolerated his mothers’ business, but he couldn’t stand it, secretly. He’d been planning to get out and make a living in something secular since he was a kid. Garrison Tech was just a summer from now; surely, nothing too weird would happen before he could get away.

\--

Keith had dreams of Shiro even a year after he disappeared. He was having one of those dreams when he got a call from Pidge.

In the dream, he could hear Shiro’s voice behind a closed door, but whenever he opened the door, it was empty. Sometimes, he would open every door in the house he shared with Shiro, chasing his voice, but never to find him.

After speaking with Pidge about what they found, Keith dragged himself out of bed and took a brisk shower. With the late hours he worked, he usually slept in pretty late. Especially since there was no one else in the house to complain about it.

He was on his way out, motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm, when he passed by Shiro’s door. Though he didn’t make a habit of going in there much, even when Shiro was still around, it still haunted him, as though this one room cast a shadow over his whole life.

Keith kept walking, on out the door and to his motorcycle, or at least it was his now that Shiro was gone. Because that’s what people do: they leave, whether they want to or not. Well, Keith wasn’t going to let Shiro walk out of his life like so many other family had. He was going to get answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through this colossal chapter, thank you and congratulations. This is going to be a long and in-depth fic if the plans I'm making for it are correct. Thanks again for reading the first chapter! If you have any thoughts or questions about it, please let me know either in the comments below or by shooting me a message. I love feedback and I want to make this story the best it can be. The next chapter is when things will really start to get interesting.
> 
> Find me over at morticia-crusader-of-the-night on tumblr, and have a great day.


	2. O Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura POV  
> Pidge POV  
> Keith POV

The single flame flickered on a skinny store-bought candlestick. Allura gazed into the fire and allowed her consciousness to unravel. After years of training, entering a trance was as simple for her as falling asleep.

Ideally, one would want to be in a dark, soundless room to scry, but she was a natural at spirit dissolution. Coran balanced the candle on the center console and folded his arms on the steering wheel, watching Allura’s face carefully for signs that her spirit had wandered too far.

Looking into the flame, Allura focused on removing her sense of self. _I am nothing, nowhere, no one_. She lost sensation of her surroundings first: Coran, the interior of their rental car, the quaint Kerberos neighborhood. Her body may as well have been numb. When all that was left of Allura was her mind, she discarded that, too. She was nothing to herself. Unburdened by the material plane, she could travel the ley line and learn its secrets.

A house, slowly being reclaimed by nature… A dirt path snaking through the woods… Blood splashing against rotted floorboards… Moonlight streaming through a hole in some ceiling… A man with a scar across the bridge of his nose…

The images came faster, flashing by almost too fast to register: blood, strangers, teeth, fire, eyes, blood, armies, teeth, maggots, failure, blood, claws, Alfor, _Zarkon_ —

The flame blew out.

Allura fell back into her seat as though shoved and looked around wildly. “Father!”

A beat passed in silence as Coran just gazed back at her, saddened. He held the smoking candle and said, “Do you remember where you are?”

Allura understood Coran’s true question: _Do you remember why we’re here? Do you recall your people’s screams, their anguish, the demise of the Alteans?_ “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I… remember we’re in Kerberos. We just spoke to Pidge—Katie Holt.”

Coran nodded and deposited the candle into the cupholder. Allura took in her surroundings—a driveway leading up to a cheerfully painted house, rosebushes wilting in the yard, security cameras hidden in the shadow of the front door. “Are we still in front of the Holts’ house?”

“Oh, aheh.” Coran rubbed the back of his neck and offered a placating smile. “I didn’t want to move us in case it broke your concentration.”

Allura sighed, but she let it go, supposing Coran may be right. She craned her neck and saw a face watching behind one of the windows, too shadowed to make out. “Well, we should leave now before they get suspicious. Any more suspicious, anyway.”

“Right.” Coran started the car and backed out of the driveway. Shifting into drive, he turned onto the road and continued down the street. Houses like the Holts’ passed them by, bathed in sunlight, and he said, “What did you see?”

Allura repressed a shudder as she recounted the disturbing images the ley line had shown her. Coran frowned thoughtfully. “Seems like something is happening at this house in the woods tonight. But are you sure it’s relevant to our mission?”

“Why else would the ley line tell me about it?” Allura said. “Don’t forget, it showed me my father and Zarkon, as well. This must be related somehow.”

Coran blanched. “Fine,” he said wearily. “But I think we should bring some… precautions.” He glanced at the glove box.

Allura opened the compartment and removed the hand gun. She snapped a clip of silver bullets into the gun and agreed, “Never leave home without it.”

\--

 

Pidge and Keith turned when the door to the shed opened. A pissed-off Lance strode through the doorway and jabbed an accusing finger at Keith. “What the hell is _he_ doing here?”

Keith’s face was blank. “Who are you?”

Lance sputtered, caught off-guard by the question. “Lance!” He waited for recognition to change Keith’s features, but he continued giving Lance that clueless stare, so he elaborated. “We had Mr. Iverson’s chemistry lab together? You kept showing me up for the highest grade in the class?”

“Oh, I remember you,” Keith said, unimpressed, which only infuriated Lance further.

“Lance, don’t start,” Pidge said. “I invited him.”  
Lance folded his arms and scoffed. “Duh! What I want to know is why!”

Another form lumbered through the door, blocking the outside light. “Lance, you can’t just jump out of the car while it’s still moving,” Hunk moaned. He stopped when he saw Keith. “Oh… hi.”

Keith’s gaze slid from Lance to Hunk. He mumbled to Pidge, “So these are the other people who are going to help us?”

“Yes,” Pidge sighed. Before Lance could remark, they added, “I invited Keith because his older brother is Takashi Shirogane, the other man who went missing at the same time as Matt and Dad. He has a right to participate in our investigation.”

Pidge and Keith used to have 12th grade English together when the disappearances happened and Keith stopped showing up to school. After being asked about Shiro several times because authorities kept linking the disappearances together, Pidge got in contact with Keith, and they conspired to solve the case, long after the authorities gave up on it.

Communication between them had slowed without any new details, but he’d answered their call all the same and shown up on his motorcycle when they’d asked. Pidge guessed Lance saw Keith’s motorcycle a little ways from the driveway and knew it was Keith. After all, Keith had a reputation for dropping out of high school, riding a motorcycle, and working in the city. As Pidge’s mom and the neighbors would say, a “bad influence.” Pidge hadn’t expected for Lance to have such a reaction, however much he talked about Keith the year he had chemistry with him.

Hunk shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at Keith, but he unfolded his arms. “Alright,” he grumbled. He pointed at Keith again. “But just so you know, I don’t like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Keith shot back.

“Guys! Look at this!” Pidge quickly brought up the video clip on their laptop and pressed play.

Keith had already seen the video, arriving ten minutes before Hunk and Lance, but he watched with them anyway. The security footage dated thirteen months ago showed a black vehicle stopping in the Holts’ driveway beside Samuel’s and Colleen’s cars.

“I haven’t seen that car around town before,” Hunk remarked.

Pidge nodded and pointed at the screen. “And look, see how it seems like no one’s driving it?”

Lance and Hunk leaned in closer to see the empty seats behind the windshield. “Spooky,” said Lance.

Hunk shook his head. “The windows are clearly just… too tinted to see the--”

Pidge leaned back in their chair and smirked as the doors opened next, apparently of their own accord, and shut.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lance said, practically pressing his face against the monitor. “Play that again?”

Pidge replayed it and looked over their shoulder to see Lance’s and Hunk’s reactions. Keith continued to frown at the screen. Lance seemed pale, though the single lightbulb hanging in the shed didn’t provide much detail. Hunk was scowling.

“There’s a logical explanation for this,” he said.

“What?” Pidge and Lance exclaimed, while Keith demanded, “Like?”

Hunk pressed his hands together as though channeling his patience. “Maybe Pidge’s security cameras are glitching.”

Pidge shook their head. “No, no way. What kind of glitch looks like this?”

“I have to agree with them, Hunk,” said Lance. “I’d say it’s just special effects if I didn’t know any better, but…”

“And what would you suggest it is?” asked Hunk.

Pidge and Lance were quiet, unsure how to phrase it. Keith, however, brazen and unfamiliar with Hunk’s history, said, “Something supernatural, clearly.”

Hunk’s brows furrowed. His words had particular emphasis as he said, “There’s no such thing as ‘supernatural’.”

Pidge sighed and folded their arms across the top of their chair. Holding Hunk’s gaze, they murmured, “I know it’s not your favorite topic in the world, but given the evidence—”

“Wait,” Keith blurted, as though a sudden realization dawned on him. “Your family runs the Garret Ghost Tour, right? Shouldn’t you be familiar with this stuff?”

Pidge facepalmed. Lance made a face and said, “Ex-nay on the Ost Tour-gay.”

But to their surprise, Hunk just smiled. “Yeah, that is my family. Which is why I know better than anyone that the paranormal is just a hoax. Anything can be explained with science and logic and a little research.”

Keith gestured at the laptop. “Well? What’s your explanation?”

“Like I said, a glitch or—”

“Something that actually makes sense,” Keith said.

Hunk’s smile faded. Lance put a hand on his arm. “Look, I wouldn’t normally agree with Keith, but you at least can’t deny that something weird is going on.”

Taking a deep breath, Hunk said, “I guess I can agree with that much.”

“Good,” Pidge said, and they explained to the guys what had transpired earlier that day with the FBI agents Allura and Coran. “So I think what we should do is follow them,” they finished.

“Wait, you want to follow around the FBI?” Hunk cried.

“Yes,” said Pidge and Keith.

Hunk sighed. “And I guess you’ll be wanting me to drive.”

Lance grabbed onto Hunk’s arm and gazed up at him with pleading blue eyes. “Please, Hunk? This is so much more awesome than sitting around going through police records. Please, please, pleeease?”

“Lance…”

“Pleeeease?” Lance said again, and Pidge joined in, also batting their eyes behind their glasses.

Hunk glanced at Keith, and Keith held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I can’t say no to Pidge, either.”

Ten minutes later, Hunk sweated at the wheel of his SUV as Lance flipped through radio stations and Pidge typed on their phone. Keith gazed out the window, thinking, or at least trying to until he snapped, “Will you quit playing with that?”

“I’m looking for radio chatter,” Lance retorted. “Maybe the FBI agents have a secret frequency they communicate on, but like, in code, so like, ‘The quiznak flies at dawn.’”

Keith frowned. “What’s a quiznak?”

“Psh, I don’t know,” said Lance. “Some code word.”

“They probably don’t have radios, Lance,” said Pidge. Lance continued to adjust the radio static, and Keith gripped his seat.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he groaned.

They each looked to Hunk as he made a left. He didn’t answer right away, seeming focused. “I think maybe they’re stopped for gas at the Legion station.”

Pidge tilted their head. “Why?”

Hunk shrugged. “Just a feeling. They might be there, right?”

Pidge didn’t think that was a reliable answer, but they said nothing, for two reasons. One, they didn’t have a better idea, and two, sometimes Hunk’s intuition could be scary accurate.

There was only one gas station in town, the Legion, and it was popular if only because of the slurpee machine and the low gas prices. Pidge wasn’t actually expecting to see the agents’ car parked in the station lot, so when their eyes landed on the familiar white vehicle, they swore and ducked their head so as not to be seen.

Keith noticed and said, “I’m guessing that’s them, then.”

“Yeah! Nice job, Hunk,” Lance cheered. “Now, I’ll be good cop, and Keith, you be emo cop—”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Hunk said, glancing over his shoulder at the right lane before pulling into the gas station. “We are not confronting the FBI.”

“Definitely not,” agreed Pidge, still bent over in their seat.

“Aw man.” Lance pouted.

Hunk parked across the lot from the white car and shut off the engine. “So then what?” he muttered, as though afraid the agents might hear him.

Pidge dared to look up just as Allura and Coran emerged from the station, each hefting heavy bags of… “Is that salt?”

“If so, that’s a lot of salt,” Keith said.

Hunk said, “That’s definitely salt. My moms go through bags of it every week.” At the strange looks he received, he added, “They’re to ward off malevolent energy, particularly demons.”

Pidge looked back to the agents and their bags of salt. “Weird…”

“Maybe I should pick some up while I’m here,” Hunk mused.

“No time.” Pidge pointed to where the agents were getting into their vehicle. “We need to follow that car.”

\--

They lagged behind the agents quite a ways due to Hunk’s anxiety of being discovered, but no matter how many times the white car lost them, Hunk always directed them back on track. Keith was honestly impressed, though his mind kept going back to the same few questions: What if this was it? What if, tonight, he learned what happened to Shiro, as well as Samuel and Matt Holt? Was he ready? Should he have brought his knife?

Keith didn’t normally leave the house without his knife, but then again, he hadn’t expected this to turn into a full-blown reconnaissance mission. Being without it made him feel vulnerable. Though he could hold himself in a fight, he would prefer to have a weapon, especially in a part of town he’d never really been in before.

Kerberos became less town and more forest the further east one travelled. Houses and streetlamps turned to trees and undergrowth, blocking the rays of the setting sun. Hunk reached to turn on the headlights, but Pidge said, “Don’t. They’ll notice us.”

Hunk hesitated. Keith thought he might be deliberating whether he feared an accident or possible driving ticket more than being seen by the FBI agents and facing Pidge’s wrath. In the end, he left them in the dark.

Lance had stopped playing with the radio, thankfully, but that also meant he had nothing to entertain himself with but pestering Keith. Turned around in his seat to see Keith, he asked, “So what’s it like being a relic from the 80’s? You know, with the mullet and the motorcycle and all.”

Keith ignored him, staring out the window at the passing woods. 

Lance snapped his fingers and waved. “Hello? Earth to Kogane, come in Kogane.”

A muscle in Keith’s jaw twitched, his only acknowledgment of Lance’s attempts to annoy him. Pidge sighed. “Lance, stop.”

“What?” said Lance. “I’m just curious as to why he’s acting like a middle-aged man chasing his youth.”

Keith bristled, anger coiling inside him, hot and volatile. Glaring at Lance, he said, “If you have a problem with me, come out and say it to my face.”

Lance scoffed. “I’m not scared of you.”

Keith kicked the back of Lance’s chair, hard enough to vault the other teen forward in his seat. Lance braced his arms against the glove compartment to avoid bashing his face into it and yelped. “You kicked me!”

“Guys, knock it off,” Hunk said, a warning in his tone.

“Seriously, stop,” Pidge groaned. “You’re acting like kindergarteners.”

“He started it,” Keith grumbled.

Lance swore in a mixture of Spanish and English as he rubbed at his back. He scowled at Keith in the reflection of the right door mirror, and Keith glared back. Keith wasn’t a stranger to sour looks and terse words from the people of Kerberos, but Lance McClain was quickly becoming the most annoying of them all.

Hunk braked, and Keith tore his eyes away from Lance’s in the mirror to look out the windshield. Ahead of them, the white car’s rear lights flashed red, and it made a turn onto an unpaved road heading further into the woods. Hunk passed it and returned to his normal speed.

“What are you doing? They’re getting away,” Pidge exclaimed.

Hunk said, “I’m trying to seem casual. We don’t want them to know we’re following them, right? Besides, I don’t want to get this car dirty, like I just washed it.”

“Turn around and park on the side,” said Keith. “We’ll walk.”

Lance shot a glare over his shoulder at Keith. “Who made you team captain?”

“Keith’s right,” Pidge said just as Keith said, “Got a better idea?”

Lance’s eyes narrowed, but he slowly faced forward in his seat.

Hunk made a sketchy U-turn and started back toward where they saw the white car vanish. “I don’t know about this…”

Pidge tapped at their phone, unconcerned. “All we have to do is follow them on foot, take some pictures, and go home. Easy.”

“But what if it’s a really long walk?” Hunk whined.

“My parents expect me home by ten,” Lance said, eyeing the dash clock that reported it was nearing 7 o’clock.

Keith shook his head, annoyed at them both. The inconvenience of having them along on this answer hunt in the near-dark was something he planned to bring up to Pidge later, in hopes of never involving them again.

Pidge said soothingly, “I have my phone on me. If it starts taking a long time, we’ll head back and come down this path another day.”

This seemed to satisfy the guys, or they at least couldn’t think of any other objections. As Hunk’s headlights picked out the path, he pulled over on the side of the road and parked.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he mumbled as Pidge jumped out of the car and Lance and Keith followed.

Pidge strode to the path confidently and stopped. They seemed to be considering the path itself, a rough dirt road bordered on either side by untamed wilderness. “Surprising,” they muttered, perhaps to themself only, as they took out their phone and snapped pictures.

“What’s so interesting about it?” Lance asked.

Pidge adjusted their glasses and gazed down the path, hidden in the shadow of the trees. “I can’t imagine this road gets a lot of traffic, and yet it’s completely clear of debris or undergrowth. And there are two sets of tire tracks here.”

Keith and Lance looked. Sure enough, two different tire tracks marked the dirt, overlapping at times but otherwise both distinct. And fresh, Keith guessed. He wondered who else would be in the woods tonight, and if more would come. He decided not to voice this concern in case it made the others want to leave. Answers first, cowardice later.

“Let’s get going,” he said, marching ahead into the dim forest. Lance muttered something Keith couldn’t quite make out, but he heard their footsteps following him into the woods.

Other than Hunk jumping at every sound and shadow in the forest, the youth were quiet as they tread the path. The trail kept mostly steady with a few hooks and valleys, but otherwise clear of anything they needed to step over. The light from the woods was fading so fast that within thirty minutes of walking, both Hunk and Pidge had their phones out and acting as flashlights.

“What was that?” Hunk asked for maybe the fiftieth time.

Lance groaned. “Will you stop asking that? Jeez, it’s like you’ve never been hiking before.”

“I haven’t,” Hunk said, voice taught with anxiety, “and that sound wasn’t like the other sounds.”

A few more minutes of walking and Hunk gasping every time a leaf rustled, and Keith heard it: what sounded like a laugh echoing through the trees.

He stopped and tilted his head to listen, the others halting behind him. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Hunk squeaked, hugging himself.

“Hear what?” Pidge said.

“It sounded like…” Keith caught a glimpse of Lance’s eye roll and faltered. “Nevermind. It was probably the wind.”

Two dark shapes fell in front of them, and Hunk yelled. Keith whirled, and Pidge lifted their phone to shine on two tall, humanlike creatures. Keith thought of them as ‘creatures’ rather than ‘people’ because other than the fact he could swear they just jumped from the tree tops, their skin had a waxy, dead-looking sheen, and when Pidge’s flashlight lifted to their gleaming eyes, they hissed, showing off fangs.

“Turn that torch off,” the lefthand creature snarled, teeth bared.

Pidge quickly lowered the phone to the creatures’ dark velvet robes instead of their faces. Enough refracted glow from the flashlight allowed Keith to make out the lefthand creature’s face, a sallow-skinned man with black hair slicked back, and the righthand, a woman with a darker complexion and a nasty scar marring her chin. Their eyes, though—they glowed a fluorescent yellow in the dark.

Keith backed away as the man strode forward, and the woman began to circle them like a shark scenting its prey. “More food,” she said, her voice low and soft, making the hair on Keith’s arms stand up.

“Now, now, Hanah,” said the man as he took another step forward. Keith stepped back again and bumped into one of the others behind him. “We must share with our siblings. It’s a special night, after all.”

Keith wanted to turn his head and see what Hanah was up to, keep an eye on her, but he didn’t dare break eye contact with the creature before him. He heard Lance say, “Wh-What the hell are you guys?”

Pidge’s flashlight shifted slightly in her shaking hand, showing off the man’s fanged smile as he laughed. “Come with us quietly and no one gets hurt.”

“Oh, is—is this y-your forest?” Hunk stuttered. “Our bad, we were j-just leaving.”

The man’s smile grew, and his eyes twinkled in the darkness as he grabbed Keith’s arm. The creature spun him and wrenched his arm behind his back. Keith tried to twist free, but the man’s grip was like iron. “Oh, I think not. We vampires are too selfish to let perfectly good blood wander off.”

“Vampires…” Pidge whispered.

Hanah echoed, “Good blood.” Now Keith could see her, holding Hunk in a similar position and forcing him forward. Hunk whimpered; Lance and Pidge exchanged horrified looks.

“Shiro will be pleased,” said the man. “Now, let’s get going, humans. It’s nearly time for the ritual to start.”

As the vampires marched their human captives deeper into the woods, Keith’s arm going numb behind him where the man lead him in front, he kept replaying the name Shiro in his head and wondering how likely it could be that his Shiro and the vampire’s were one in the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is how most if not all chapters will be written, switching between viewpoints and about 3,000 words-ish. As always, if you have any questions or comments about the story, please leave a comment or send me a message. And have a great day!


	3. Aeternus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance POV  
> Shiro POV

“We have people who’ll notice we’re missing,” Lance said. The vampires laughed, and he tried again, willing his voice not to shake. “They’ll come after you.”

The vampire grinned at him over Keith’s shoulder. “Good.”

Keith winced. “Lance, please stop talking.”

Lance didn’t say anything more the rest of the walk, not because he couldn’t think of something to say, but because the way the male vampire dragged Keith backward by his arm looked painful enough without Lance’s pitiful attempts to spare their lives.

Beside him, Pidge still had their phone on flashlight mode, and Lance wanted to ask if they got any reception out here. With how the day was going, it probably wasn’t going to grant them good luck now, anyway. The flashlight stayed pointed at their feet, so Lance almost missed the gleam of a windshield as a tiny sliver of moonlight reflected off its surface.

Lance looked in the direction of the gleam and saw that some large shape was hidden by darkness and shrubbery a few feet off the path. His eyes flicked downward. In Pidge’s flashlight, there was only one pair of tire tracks. Casually, so as not to tip off the vampires, he glanced over the faces of his companions to see if they had noticed.

From Keith’s and Hunk’s pained expressions, to Pidge’s mouth moving soundlessly, Lance saw no signs of recognition. The vampires didn’t seem to acknowledge the car either—when Lance looked back at Hanah, she bared her fangs at him and snarled, “Keep moving.”

He hastily faced forward and clenched his jaw as Hunk whimpered. The beginnings of a plan formed in his mind.

They marched deeper and deeper into the woods, only getting sneaks of light between the canopy of leaves. Despite the darkness, the vampires never lost their way, their luminescent eyes scouting the path ahead. Lance held onto the plan gaining shape in his thoughts and to the tiny spark of hope accompanying it.

“Oh my god,” Pidge moaned as the path opened to a clearing, a monstrous house in its center, silhouetted by the moon. The cabin looked like something out of a horror film: its wood a dark hue, the remains of a fence jutting out like broken teeth in the yard, the porch slanting forward, patches of the roof missing. The tire tracks ended beside a new-looking silver car parked in the weeds.

“Home sweet home,” said Hanah in her deep monotone, and the vampire holding Keith chuckled. He swung Keith around ahead of him and led him into the house.

Lance halted, and Hunk bumped into him from behind. Pidge stopped, too, wide-eyed as Lance grabbed the phone from their hand.

“What are you— _hsss_!” Hanah let go of Hunk and covered her eyes as Lance aimed the flashlight square in her face.

He looked wildly from Pidge to Hunk. “Don’t just stand there! Run!”

“But—” Hunk started, but Pidge didn’t need to be told twice. They spun on their heel and booked it for the woods.

Hanah ducked away from Lance’s flashlight and lunged after the fleeing Pidge, wrapping her arms around their small form and lifting them off their feet. They screamed and struggled against the vampire’s grasp. Lance followed them with the light, but Hanah’s back was to him.

Hunk recovered from his freeze. “Let go of them!” he yelled as he charged at the vampire. To the humans’ surprise, Hanah tossed Pidge across the clearing into a tree and launched herself at Hunk instead, taking him to the ground. Hunk caught the vampire’s face in both hands and struggled to keep her away from his throat.

“Shit!” Lance raced to Hunk’s side and shoved the phone in Hanah’s face again. She threw out her hand and swatted the phone from Lance’s grasp. He heard it hit the ground somewhere behind him.

With Hanah distracted, Hunk felt around for something to use and came up with a heavy rock. He brought it to the side of her head with a stunning amount of force, and there was a distinct crack. The vampire shrieked, flung herself off of Hunk, and skittered away from them.

The scream brought the other vampire out of the house, and another on his heels, this one with their robe’s hood brought up over their face. “What in the nine hells?!” yelled the male vampire.

Lance and Hunk didn’t move, plotting their next action, but Hanah cried out again. “Marcius!”

The male vampire’s head snapped in their direction, and his face contorted with fury. Lance blinked, and he was lifted off his feet by a steely grip on his throat. Lance clawed at the hand around his neck as Marcius held him up above his head.

Lance’s eyes bulged in his head and his vision swam, but he never lost sight of that pale face and yellow eyes. Distantly, he could hear Hunk yelp. 

“Don’t touch him, Hanah,” Marcius commanded without looking away from Lance.

“But my _face_ —”

“It’s not time yet. Besides…” The hold on Lance’s throat tightened for a moment before the grip loosened and he fell to his hands and knees, gasping. “This one dies first.”

Just as quickly as it ignited, that spark of hope extinguished, leaving Lance vulnerable and afraid.

\--

Shiro had been searching for an opportunity to flee all day, but the three vampires kept an annoyingly close eye on him. Despite working to earn their trust the past year, it was as though they expected him to run as soon as their backs were turned.

When they were alone in the cabin’s living room, the only place of the house where the roof had withstood the years, Ajax, the vampire left to babysit him, explained, “Sometimes, fledlings get… nervous on their initiation day.”

Shiro mentally translated “nervous” to “scared shitless of being transformed into a soulless monster.” And he could understand that; after all, his heart quickened at the thought of the ritual, as though trying to get in a few more beats before it stopped forever.

Knowing that completing the ritual would mean Zarkon won, Shiro strategized. Once alone with Ajax, it was just a matter of getting close enough to stake them. Of course, that’s ignoring the fact that Ajax was supremely old and powerful, and Shiro didn’t have a stake on him per se; it would have to be broken from the dust-cover-dressed furniture in the cabin.

And even if Shiro could stake Ajax, even if he could escape, then where would he go? What would he do? He certainly couldn’t return home. Doing so would put Keith in danger, and it was just a matter of time before the others found him again.

“Place your right hand under the Aeternus, Takashi,” said Ajax, the hood of their velvet robes drawn over their face, their gnarled hands holding out an equally decrepit tome.

Shiro hesitated, then placed his left hand under the book. Maybe changing the ritual in some way would allow him to subvert it? Ajax didn’t seem to notice as they opened the Aeternus to a page written in a script Shiro didn’t inherently understand but recognized as demonic in origin.

“Vampires are a powerful tradition,” Ajax intoned. Through the shadow of their hood, yellow eyes peered at him. “Very few are granted the chance of immortal life, and even less become champions for the archdemon himself.”

Shiro closed his eyes. Flashbacks of the past year—fighting for his life in grotesque games of wit and might, all for the amusement for the demon hierarchy—seared through his brain. When he reopened his eyes, the images faded, but he still felt hollow.

“Repeat after me,” said Ajax.

The vampire led him through a series of sounds Shiro didn’t comprehend, but just saying them made him feel like he was signing over his soul. Afterward, Ajax took the Aeternus and made Shiro help them draw sigils on the floor in chalk.

Shiro was looking for an opportunity to ambush Ajax, for the vampire to leave the room or even turn their back, but Marcius and Hanah returned faster than they both had expected. Shiro didn’t turn when he heard Marcius stepping through the doorway and another pair of footsteps, some helpless human’s, following, the floorboards creaking under their weight.

“Back so soon?” Ajax said, sounding pleased.

Marcius said, “They were just wandering the woods when we found them. There are three others, the perfect amount. Where should I put this one?”

Ajax left to assist Marcius with the human. Now was Shiro’s chance. He looked around at the furniture and noted an end table supporting a cobwebbed ash tray. If Shiro could break off the actual tabletop, then that left the elaborately carved wooden leg, which would be perfect for driving through a vampire’s heart.

He was just about to try when Hanah screamed. He jerked away from the table as Marcius and Ajax ran by, then went to the dirt-crusted window and peered out. He could just detect Marcius lifting a human off their feet, while Ajax bundled another in their arms and carried them into the cabin.

Shiro rounded from the living room to the doorway and saw the unconscious human sprawled in Ajax’s arms. “What happened?”

“A minor setback.” Ajax shook their head as they carried the human down the hall to join the other one.

Shiro returned to the living room, his pulse jumping again as Marcius and Hanah dragged in two more conscious humans. Hanah continued down the hall with her whimpering human, not allowing Shiro to get a good look at the bloody wound on her face, while Marcius brought his captive to stand in the sigil Shiro and Ajax had drawn.

Shiro frowned when he saw the human. Barely an adult, perhaps a high school student, the human was disheveled and struggling to breathe. He noticed a necklace of bruises adorning the human’s throat and felt a surge of disgust for Marcius.

He’d always known the vampire to be cruel by the way Marcius boasted about his conquests, but to see it firsthand…

“Come, Shiro,” said Ajax while Marcius brandished a knife.

“No!” Shiro blurted, and the vampire chuckled.

Instead of cutting the human’s throat, as Shiro had expected, Marcius wrested a hand from the human’s huddled form and dipped the knife against the meat of his palm. The human winced as fresh blood oozed from the cut.

Shiro felt himself drawn forward and realized a moment later that he was in the sigil with the human, the bleeding hand in Shiro’s. His eyes were on the blood pooling in the human’s hand and spilling over into his.

“Well, don’t waste it,” said Marcius, and Hanah laughed.

“Quiet,” Ajax said. “Don’t confuse him.”

Shiro looked from the vampires, each of them standing around the sigil, to the human, whose wide blue eyes stared pleadingly back, to the rich red blood trickling between the human’s fingers and tapping on the floor, filling Shiro’s senses with the smell of copper—

Wood splintering as the front door was kicked open and floorboards creaking under two pairs of footsteps alerted the vampires. They turned to the hallway, where a woman with white hair and pink markings on her face stood illuminated by moonlight streaming through the ceiling. She leveled a shining pistol at Shiro.

Without thinking, Shiro threw his arm around the human’s neck and pulled them both to the ground, just as the pistol fired twice. Hanah, who had been standing behind him, shrieked and collapsed, the bullet wounds in her chest hissing.

Ajax lowered into a fighting stance while Marcius bared his fangs. He dodged bullets by leaping into the air and landing before the woman in a blink. Wrestling the gun from her hands, he tossed it behind him, the pistol clattering heavily on the other side of the room. He shoved the woman to the floor.

Before Marcius could finish his work, another person, a man with bright red hair, appeared, a ball of fire writhing in his hand. “No one touches the princess,” he snapped. The flames burst from his hand, cloaking Marcius and rushing through the room.

Flames jumped from curtains to furniture to vampires as though they were sentient creatures. Ajax’s screams as they collapsed chorused with Marcius’s as he staggered backward and crashed into the sofa. The man helped the woman to her feet as she said, “Get the humans. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The smell of burning flesh and thick smoke clogged Shiro’s airways. Though the smoke caused him to cough, it also purged the smell of blood from his nostrils and cleared his mind.

Beside him, the human was coughing as well.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Shiro said between gasps, supporting the human in his arms.

The human, wheezing, clung to Shiro’s robes, and Shiro began to stand. A hard shove to his back threw him off balance and caused him to stagger, depositing the human roughly to the floor.

“Give him to me,” hissed Ajax as he threw Shiro aside. Fire roared across the cabin and the smoke thickened as Ajax grabbed the human. Shiro could see from his position on the floor that Ajax’s hands were badly burned, and their face, now revealed from the hood, fared no better. Still, fangs grew from their melted mouth as they poised to sink them into the struggling human’s neck.

“How about you eat _this_.” The woman landed a savage kick to Ajax’s side.

The vampire was more annoyed than injured as they dropped the human and turned to face the newcomer. “Altean,” they hissed, surging to their feet. “I thought your kind was destroyed!”

The woman spun a glowing tendril in front of her—a whip. “Not quite.”

Ajax snarled. Shiro heard a crackling sound and looked up to see the flames consuming the roof. While the Altean and vampire fought, he pulled the human up and into the slightly less blazing hallway. He threw one of the human’s arms around his shoulders, steadying him, and glanced back at the fight.

Hanah was a pile of ash in the corner, and Marcius a plume of smoke on the sofa. Truly, it was between the woman and Ajax. Ajax struck first, lashing out with clawed, destroyed hands, and the woman danced back out of their grasp. She took advantage of Ajax’s unbalance and lashed out with her whip, the tendril slashing across the vampire’s side. They shrieked and clutched at the wound.

Shiro continued outside the broken front door with the human until they were across the clearing from the burning house. Coughing, Shiro set the human down and turned back to the cabin.

He raced into the burning building and witnessed the woman lying on the ground, her whip wrapped around Ajax’s hand, kicking at them as the vampire tried to position themself to bite. Shiro looked around and noticed the end table he’d seen before. Snatching it up, he smashed the table against the ground, leaving a long, sharp hunk of wood. He lifted the stake above his head and brought it home between Ajax’s shoulder blades.

The Altean winced as blood spattered their cheek. Ajax froze, and she kicked them off of her, sitting up. The vampire staggered backward and tumbled into a wall of flame.

“Thanks,” said the woman. She took Shiro’s proffered hand and pulled herself to her feet, then winced as a beam from the ceiling sailed through the air and crashed a few feet from them. “We should get out of here.”

“But the other humans—” Shiro started.

“Coran’s taking care of them,” she interrupted, shoving Shiro toward the door. “Let’s go!”

Shiro didn’t argue, hurrying out of the burning cabin into the fresh night air. After images of the fire in his eyes delayed his ability to see the other four humans, plus the other man, were standing or sitting in the clearing beyond the crooked fence.

“Allura, this one needs healing,” said the man, Coran, kneeling beside the human Shiro would have been forced to kill, had the fire not interrupted.

Shiro tried not to think about that as the woman, Allura, passed him to kneel beside the human. He turned to watch the house burn down and sighed. At least all of Matt and Samuel’s research was somewhere safe, not trapped in the flames…

One of the humans stopped beside him, peering up at his face. Shiro looked down—and nearly collapsed from shock.

“Shiro?” said Keith.

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, eyes going wide. “You—why are you—?”

Keith interrupted him with a hug. Shiro thought of how much he’d missed Keith and hugged him back, closing his eyes.

“Wait, what?” an unfamiliar voice said as the adoptive brothers parted. Shiro turned to see what looked like a younger Matt approach them, a dark smudge on their cheek as they blinked owlishly at Shiro behind their glasses. “You’re Takashi Shirogane?”

“This is way freaky,” another human said, his voice sounding strangled. Shiro couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke or from the situation he’d found himself in.

Shiro stared back at the Matt look-alike. “Er, I’m sorry, do I know…?”

“This is Pidge,” Keith explained. “They helped me find you.”

“You were looking for me?” Shiro said, baffled.

“Of course we were.” Keith frowned, as though offended. “Did you think you could just—just walk out and join some batshit vampire cult?”

“Heh, batshit,” said the other young man.

Keith gestured toward the man. “The guy currently going into hysterics is Hunk.”

“I’m not going into hysterics,” Hunk said hysterically.

“Wow…” said Pidge. Shiro thought they were still ogling at him until he followed their gaze.

Allura was currently bent over the human’s hand, studying it carefully. As she spoke in a language Shiro didn’t know, the cut on the human’s hand began to glow a faint pink. Before their eyes, the cut closed. The human turned his hand over and back again in disbelief.

Hunk, a safe distance away from the Alteans, said, “Excuse me, pardon the interruption, but what the hell is going on?”

Allura and Coran surveyed the faces peering around at them, then gazed at the fire rapidly destroying the cabin.

“We’ll tell you everything,” said Allura, ignoring the gasp from Coran. “But first, we must ask you to trust us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy, this was a really hard chapter to write. It was fun writing Allura's action sequences but I don't know, I feel like I could improve this chapter a lot. I actually ended up cutting this chapter in half and saving the other half for chapter 4, which I will post after I'm able to proofread it and add some things. How do you feel about this chapter? Please let me know in the comments below or by sending me a message. I really appreciate feedback as I've mentioned and I read every comment. Thank you for reading and I hope you all have a good day. :)


	4. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura POV  
> Keith POV  
> Hunk POV  
> Allura POV

Coran started the car, bathing the group of young adults, Takashi, and Allura in the headlights. Shiro shielded his eyes with his hand.

“I heard Ajax say you’re Altean,” Takashi—Shiro, he’d told her to call him—said. “What does that mean?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘sexy vampire hunter,’” suggested Lance. At the others’ collective scowls, he shrugged. “Humor and flirting are how I cope with a bad time. Don’t judge me.”

“We’re not vampire hunters,” Allura said with a sigh. How could she explain such a varied and complex world to people who have only recently caught a glimpse of it? She knew Coran didn’t approve, judging by his silence and sullen expression, but they’d seen too much for her to just doctor their memories. And she was tired of lies; they always caught up to her.

“Witches?” Pidge guessed. Hunk winced.

“No, no, not witches,” Allura said. “More like… Well, enchanters, really. Magic wielders.”

“So, witches,” said Pidge.

Allura shook her head. “Witches are different.”

“Different how?”

“Pidge,” said Shiro.

Pidge held up their hands in a show of innocence. “I’m just curious.”

“I did promise to answer all of your questions,” Allura said, “in exchange for information from you.”

They had explained to the Alteans their names, how they had arrived there by following them, and how they’d been captured. Shiro, however, was mysteriously quiet on the latter subject.

About a mile from the burned-down cottage, enchanters and humans were conversing beside Coran’s rental car. Or more like Allura was conversing while Coran rummaged through the trunk for something.

She leaned a hip against the car and examined the humans gathered in a semi-circle before her. Pidge, she’d already met. She knew about Keith, but after speaking with Pidge initially, she and Coran had decided not to bother him. Lance and Hunk were unknowns, dragged into this by association. And Shiro… Shiro had been missing for a year, or so she understood. She wanted to question him on the subject more, but she felt she should wait for a more appropriate time, a time where she didn’t have to break the news to mortals that they were now no longer safe.

“Vampires and wit—enchanters,” Pidge said, ticking them off on their fingers. “What about… werewolves?”

Allura nodded. Pidge continued, “Demons? Fae? Zombies?” and Allura continued nodding.

Pidge paused, as though giving their next question special emphasis. “Ghosts?”

Hunk looked up from his hands, and Allura said, “Yes.”

“No,” said Hunk. “Just… no. Ghosts aren’t real. I know that much.”

Allura focused on Hunk. She could sense tension in the way he said it, so she just shrugged. “I’ve never seen one, but… hypothetically, they’re out there.”

He shook his head and lowered his gaze to his hands again.

“So you’re saying we’re basically surrounded by monsters,” said Lance.

“’Surrounded’ is a little bit of a stretch,” Allura amended. “Fae are disturbed by the growth of tech and human civilization, and zombies need to be raised, but otherwise...”

“’The world is a lot stranger than you know,’” Pidge said thoughtfully. “My dad told me that once. He… He’s involved in this somehow, isn’t he?”

Allura closed her eyes. “I’m afraid so.”

“Why don’t more people know about this?” Keith demanded.

Allura opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow at Keith. “Let humans know who and what really run the world? Not in Zarkon’s lifetime.”

“Zarkon,” Shiro whispered. His gaze met Allura’s. “What do you know about him?”

“Not as much as I’d like, but I plan to change that,” admitted Allura, giving Shiro a once-over. “How do you know him?”

All eyes were on Shiro. He exhaled carefully. “During my time as a… as one of his ‘champions,’ I got to know him a little better.”

“Back up,” said Pidge. “Who’s Zarkon?”

“What do you mean, ‘champion’?” Keith asked.

So, so many questions, and so little time to explain them. Allura rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to think of a non-terrifying way to explain Zarkon. “He’s… Well, he’s the king of demons, but he has many factions of monsters under his command. His goal is to quietly take over the world and subjugate the humans.”

Evidently, Allura failed to downplay the scariness of Zarkon. Hunk whimpered. Lance and Pidge stared at her with saucer-wide eyes. Even Keith looked pale in the headlights. The only person not visibly surprised was Shiro. Where he stood across from Allura, his arms were folded in front of his cloak, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“But there are those who fight against him,” said Allura quickly. “Like Coran and me.”

As if on cue, Coran found what he wanted from the trunk and rejoined them, a satin bag in his hands.

Allura did a double-take when she saw the bag. “Coran, no.”

Coran’s eyebrows lifted. “Why not? They might be the ones…”

“They’re humans,” Allura pointed out.

“So?” he said. “Some of the bayards’ owners were human, and they wielded them as skillfully as any enchanter.”

“But they know nothing about—” Allura tried, and Coran cut her off.

“We need all the help we can get.”

The humans looked back and forth between the Alteans during this exchange, curious and confused. Allura exhaled heavily and held out her hands for the bag. Coran placed it dutifully in her grasp.

Without further explanation, she held out the bag to the nearest, Pidge. “Reach in and take out a stone.”

Pidge’s brow furrowed, but to Allura’s surprise, they obeyed, reaching deep into the bag and removing a green stone the size and shape of a golf ball—the nature bayard. It transformed easily in their touch, molding to their hand and becoming a dagger.

“Woah,” Pidge breathed, then grinned as they took a couple practice swipes at the air.

Allura blinked, surprised again that it had activated so easily for Pidge. “That—you pulled your bayard at the first try…”

“Hey, I want one!” said Lance, approaching and plunging his hand into the bag. Allura frowned but let him dig around for a stone. When he removed his hand, his stone gleamed blue in the headlights.

They waited, but nothing happened. Allura started to say, “I guess it’s not a fit,” but the bayard chose that moment to morph into a pistol, so she ended up saying, “I guess it’s not a—shit.”

“Cooooool,” said Lance as he examined the blue gun.

“Hold on, why are you giving us weapons?” Hunk inquired.

Pidge and Lance looked up from their bayards, as though just now pondering the same question. Allura said, “I’m sorry, but your lives… They’re never going to be the same. The least you can do is protect yourselves.”

She held the bag toward Hunk, but he shook his head, even took a step back. “Not me, I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Hunk,” Lance groaned.

“Don’t you ‘Hunk’ me,” he snapped, and Lance shrank back. His expression fell. “I’m sorry, Lance. It’s just… I never wanted this life. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m constantly looking over my shoulder.”

“Too bad,” said Keith. “That’s the world you live in.”

“Keith,” Shiro warned.

Keith said, “What? It’s true. He’s just in denial.”

“I prefer ‘self-preservation,’” Hunk retorted.

Allura’s expression fell. “I must admit, there’s an ulterior motive in giving you these bayards.”

“See? I knew it,” said Hunk.

Allura nodded, eyes downcast. She didn’t want to see their expressions when she explained. “The fact that the bayards are reacting to you… It means they know danger is in your future. They want to protect you, and protect others through you.”

“Through us?” repeated Pidge.

“These bayards are made for those who would protect others at the cost of their own safety,” she finished.

For once, no one spoke. Allura looked to each of them and chose her next words carefully. “The world we live in is dangerous, and it’s only going to get more dangerous for each of you. But if you refuse to act, your lives and the lives of people you love will be defenseless.”

Pidge considered their bayard. “I… I want to help you. Fight Zarkon, I mean. I want to find my family. And I don’t want anyone else to go through what I did with Matt and Dad.”

Lance clapped a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “Me, too.”

Keith stepped forward. “May I?”

Allura held out the bag, and he plucked the fire stone, which elongated into a gleaming red sword. He eyed it appreciatively and even held it like it was second nature to him.

Allura glanced between Shiro and Hunk. “There’s only one left. The black bayard was lost years ago.”

Hunk peeked at Shiro, who nodded encouragingly. “I’m going to regret this,” Hunk muttered. He held out his hand, and Allura dumped the last stone into his palm, the yellow support stone. It changed immediately into a heavy machine gun.

“Holy shit,” said Pidge, Lance, and Keith. Hunk smiled before he could think to hide it.

“I’m not really a violent, pro-gun type of guy,” Hunk said, “I _guess_ this will do. But can we change them back? My moms won’t approve of me carrying around a gun like this.”

“Of course,” said Coran.

“Oh, shit,” Lance groaned, his bayard warping and shrinking back into a sphere. “What time is it?”

Coran checked his watch. “About 10:40.”

Lance swore again. “I need to get back.”

“I should get home, too,” agreed Pidge. “Has anyone seen my phone?”

“You can change them back by willing them to their original forms, like Lance did,” Allura said. The group changed their bayards back into stones and shoved them in their pockets.

Allura glanced at Shiro and found him looking back at her. He quickly directed his eyes away.

Coran offered politely, “Does anyone need a ride?”

\--

 

Keith watched his digital clock blink at 4:59 AM. When it flicked to 5 o’clock, he sighed and kicked off the covers.

Illuminated by the glow of the clock, the red bayard sat on his nightstand, perfectly round and inconspicuous. If Keith closed his eyes, he could almost feel the stone, as though it were calling out to him.

A week ago, he would have believed it was just his imagination. But after everything he’d seen, he couldn’t deny that there was more going on. The world seemed so much bigger knowing that monstrosities waited around every corner. It was dizzying to think about and, if he were honest, scary.

Keith got out of bed and showered. Today, they were all supposed to meet at sundown and train. What Allura and Coran meant by “train,” Keith wasn’t sure, but he knew it had something to do with ridding the world of the monsters stalking around, hurting people. Whatever training entailed, he could take it.

Dressed and drying his hair with a towel, Keith decided to check on Shiro. Gently opening the door to Shiro’s room, he peeked in and saw that Shiro was dead asleep. He lay under the covers, his back to Keith, and was so still that he could be mistaken for a corpse. Keith strained to see Shiro’s shoulders move with intake of air.

Shiro craned his head to look over his shoulder at Keith and muttered, “Everything okay?”

Keith jumped and swore. “Sorry, I—I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I wasn’t,” Shiro said, sitting up and giving Keith a bland smile. “Your stomping around all morning woke me up.”

Keith frowned as he let the towel hang on his shoulders. He hadn’t been very loud in his opinion, but then again, he’d gotten used to living alone. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” Shiro yawned.

A question hovered on Keith’s tongue. He chewed his lip and finally asked, “What happened to you?”

Shiro scrubbed his hand down his face and looked at Keith with sleep-narrowed eyes. “I wish I knew. What I do remember is… painful.”

A chill rolled down Keith’s spine, halting any more questions he may have had. He saw the weariness and vulnerability in Shiro’s face, and though Keith couldn’t manage a reassuring smile, he settled for a shrug. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I will,” Shiro promised as Keith started closing the door. “I just need some time.”

Keith nodded and shut the door. Within minutes, Shiro was asleep again. Keith preoccupied himself with research and didn’t disturb him until late in the evening, when the sun’s light melted behind the mountains. Keith rapped lightly on Shiro’s door.

“We, uh,” Keith mumbled, “we need to go meet Allura and Coran and the others. Unless you’re not up to it, you can just stay here and uh…”

He trailed off as the door opened to a pale but dressed Shiro. Keith took a few steps back to allow the other man to pass. As Shiro did, he smiled at Keith.

“Thank you for understanding, Keith.”

It took Keith a moment to realize he was referring to their conversation that morning. He nodded stiffly. “No problem.”

As Shiro slipped past down the hallway, an involuntary shudder rolled through Keith. _It was as though_ … 

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. No, nothing was wrong. Everything would be okay, now that Shiro was home. Everything would be fine.

It had to be.

\--

As Hunk locked the front door to his house, a voice called behind him, “Garrett Psychics, huh?”

He turned and saw a woman on her bike, one foot resting on the ground and the other still poised on the pedal where she’d stopped. Her chestnut curls swirled around her face as a cool breeze tousled through her hair and made Hunk shiver. She fixed him with pale brown eyes and said, “You’re a Garrett, aren’t you?”

“Er, yeah,” he responded, holding his keys and shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. He didn’t have a lot of time to talk to the woman if he wanted to pick everyone up and meet the enchanters for training. “If you want a personal reading, though, you have to make an appointment.”

“Ah.” She looked him up and down. “Are you psychic?”

Hunk made a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough. “No, I’m not.”

“So you don’t do readings? That’s too bad. I was hoping you could tell my future.” She smiled.

Hunk’s mouth went dry. “What?”

The woman’s smile faltered, and she gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this meeting new people thing. My family and I just moved in. Down the street?” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the suburbs Hunk always wished he lived in. “Anyway, I’m just riding around, saying hi. So, hi.”

“Oh.” Hunk descended from his porch and crossed the yard to offer the woman his hand. “My name is Hunk. Welcome to Kerberos, uh…”

“Shay,” said the woman, taking his hand and giving a firm shake.

“Shay,” repeated Hunk. He retracted his hand and gestured toward the SUV in the driveway. “I’m, uh, on my way out now, so I can’t talk much—”

“Oh, no, of course,” Shay said. “I’ll get out of your hair.” She straightened her bike and gave Hunk another considering glance. “It was nice to meet you, Hunk.”

Hunk regretted not being able to talk to her more. He gestured to the sign in the parlor window with the Garretts’ phone number and said, “If you ever want a reading, just give us a call and we’ll set you up.”

Dulce and Marleen would be the ones to do the reading, of course, but there was no rule that Hunk couldn’t be there. For moral support.

Shay beamed. “I’ll definitely take you up on that. Well, see you later.” Lifting her grounded foot, she balanced on her bike and pedaled away, down the street and out of sight.

Hunk was still smiling as he started the car. For once, felt grateful for his family’s business.

\--

 

Allura balled her fists and sunk into a defensive stance. “Hit me.”

Shiro sputtered. “Hit you?” She wondered if he’d heard her incorrectly. After all, it was chaos in the open field they trained in. 

Lance’s pistol and Hunk’s machine gun blasted at the magical, moving targets Coran had set up for them. Coran himself sparred with Keith and gave him pointers with his sword. Pidge alternated between watching Keith and Coran and practicing stabbing motions with their dagger.

“I’m not really comfortable fighting you,” Shiro explained.

Allura laughed at him. “I promise you won’t hurt me.”

“Okay…” Shiro swung a slow, half-hearted fist toward Allura’s shoulder.

Allura stepped aside and grabbed his arm with both hands. In a blink, Shiro was on his back, winded and staring up at the stars.

She peered down at Shiro, her white ponytail falling over her shoulder. “You weren’t really trying, right?”

When Shiro caught his breath, she helped him to his feet. “How did you do that?” he said.

Shrugging, her shoulders bare from the pink tank top she wore, Allura answered, “My father and Coran taught me everything I know. Now, really try to hit me this time.” She resumed her stance.

He took a step back. “Listen, I’m really not comfortable fighting you.”

She folded her arms. “Why not? It’s not because I’m a woman, is it?”

“It’s not that. I already know how to fight.” Exhaustion seemed to drag his shoulders down as he recounted, “I’ve been fighting for my life the whole past year. I don’t need the practice.”

Allura frowned. No doubt Shiro had had his fill of violence. If he’d really lived in Zarkon’s domain, it made sense. But what didn’t make sense is how a human like Shiro had survived for so long in the captivity of the demon king. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “Do you want to talk about it? What happened to you?”

Something flickered in his expression, too fast for Allura to read, and he said, “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Well, that was fair. Allura didn’t know Shiro very well for him to spill all his troubles to her. She backed up to her original distance and tried to sound nonchalant as she said, “It’s no problem. Just know that I understand the world you were in, and you can always talk to me about it.

“And I won’t push you to spar with me, either,” she continued. “It’s just that, if you all are wanting to help us protect the innocent and defeat Zarkon, you’ll need all the training you can get.”

Shiro considered this, looking over the field of flashing bayards at Keith, whose sword clashed with one Coran had conjured. The clash of metal against metal was barely audible over the gunshots from Lance and Hunk. He turned back to Allura and gave a small smile. “Maybe another time. Until then, I can probably help Pidge keep from stabbing their eye out and you can help Lance and Hunk with their aim.”

Allura lifted her gaze to Pidge, whose wild swinging of their bayard probably would cut out someone’s eye, to Lance and Hunk, their bayards’ failing to hit their targets starting to frustrate the young men. She chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

From then on, Shiro provided a prominent role in the training sessions, which took place every night (except for when Keith worked late or the McClains had a family night). With his and Allura’s help, Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk got a handle of their bayards, at least enough to do some damage to Coran’s conjured training dummies (and sometimes Coran.)

When Shiro and Allura weren’t helping the others, they did spar, and the others would often stop their own training to watch.

They moved as efficiently as dancers, learning their opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. Before long, Allura couldn’t flip Shiro onto his back anymore, and Shiro anticipated all of her counter-attacks.

One night, the young adults and Coran as witnesses, Shiro hooked his foot behind Allura’s knees and brought her to the ground. He pinned her and smiled triumphantly. Allura caught her breath, noting how his smile seemed to transform his whole face.

She smiled back at him, then at their audience. “I think you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Just a quick note:  
> I'm sorry this chapter is so late compared to the others. I had crazy writer's block trying to justify everything and work everything out without dragging the whole story. Honestly, I just wanted to get this chapter out of the way so I could move on to the stuff I really want to write. You know, the monster hunting? So if this chapter seems rushed or incomplete somehow, I apologize. I didn't want to give up on this fic, but I was moving too slowly with trying to set up the plot. I've added the tag "plot acrobatics" for this reason. *shrug emoji* I hope everything else comes easier from now on.  
> If you have any suggestions or comments, as always, they're very appreciated. Thank you for reading and for the kudos. You're absolutely awesome. :)


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